


skin and bones

by theghostofjamespotter



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dallas Stars, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, San Jose Sharks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 15:39:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6056977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theghostofjamespotter/pseuds/theghostofjamespotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“They love you in Dallas.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“They loved me in San Jose, too.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>That’s not fair, Logan wants to say. “They still do,” is what he settles on, which is probably saying too much, but. It’s late.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	skin and bones

**Author's Note:**

> title from "skin and bones" by charlene kaye, because that should make you super sad about this pairing.
> 
> takes places after the 2/18 games against the panthers and the coyotes.
> 
> if you got here by googling yourself, turn around now. or read it and tell me how accurate i got things. either way.

 

 

 

 

The dressing room is quieter than it should be after a win.

Pavs is silent. There’s a smile creeping up over Wingels’ face, but he doesn’t say anything. Even Burnzie has tight lips, exhaustion pouring out of him in heaved breaths.

It was a hard win. A low scoring game, taken all the way to a shootout, but they still got the job done and they’re leaving Florida with two wins.

It’s just that Anaheim is still riding their ass in the standings right now. A win is great, but this kind of win isn’t doing much for them. It’s getting too late in the season to just take a win as a win. The need to be doing more, scoring more.

The air in the dressing room is thick with frustration and the silence doesn’t help.

Logan takes his time getting undressed. He lets himself feel proud of his contribution, a goal that tied the game and let them go into overtime. He did okay. Good, maybe.

As if reading his mind, Jumbo comes up behind him, claps him on the shoulder. “That was a nice goal, bud.”

“Thanks, Jumbo.” Logan smiles, fishing his phone out of his bag.

“You saved our asses out there.”

There’s a stream of push notifications on his phone. He doesn’t mean to ignore Jumbo, but he’s suddenly hyper focused, scrolling through them with both thumbs.

Jumbo clears his throat. “Checking up on the Arizona game?”

 _The Arizona Game_ , he calls it. Because the alternative is too obvious.

“Yes,” Logan says and Jumbo nods.

“You did great tonight, kid.” He pats Logan’s shoulder again, looks him up and down before turning away. “Don’t forget that.”

The notifications roll in with excruciating detail about what’s happening in Arizona. Jason’s name is on his screen more than he would like, taking penalties left and right and that Domi kid is making Dallas look...well. Bad.

There’s still a period left of Jason’s game and if the first two were any indication, it’s gonna be a long one.

Logan sets his phone on vibrate.

 

*******

 

They’re twenty minutes from boarding the plane to North Carolina when the final notification rolls in. Dallas lost, six to three.

Logan read on twitter about Jason breaking his stick against the goalpost earlier in the night after missing a shot he could’ve blocked.

He’s not gonna take losing by a three point margin well.

Logan tucks his phone into his pocket and doesn’t set it in airplane mode. Not yet.

 

*******

 

They get the five minutes to boarding call and Logan’s phone starts buzzing. He excuses himself from the others, waits until he’s cleared some distance before picking up.

“Jay,” he says into the receiver.

“Logan.” Jason pauses on the other end, clearing his throat. “Is this a bad time?”

“I’ve got a plane to catch.”

“Shit.” Jason’s voice sounds scratchy and far away.

“Give me a sec.”

Logan spots a restroom, ducks his head in first and is relieved to find it empty. He locks himself into a stall, takes a breath, and holds his phone against his ear. “Okay. You’ve got me for the next five minutes.”

“Great,” Jason says, in a decidedly not-great tone. “How’d your game go?”

“You know how it went.” He’s not too stupid to think that Jason doesn’t have the same notifications set up that he does. Jason always replies to his posts within five minutes, always texts a congratulations on the nights Logan scores. He’d think it was sad if he weren’t doing the exact same thing.

“Yeah.” He pauses. “Your goal was nice.”

“Jay, why are you calling me?” Logan tries to sound as neutral as possible. He isn’t mad, he’s just...curious. Jason hasn’t called him since the All Star Break, since he was drunk and horny in Cabo and left Logan a less-than-appropriate voicemail that went on for a solid six minutes.

Jason laughs. “I don’t know. You were the first person I thought of.”

Something in his voice breaks and it hits Logan hard. He sucks in a shaky breath, speaks before he can stop himself.

“I’m gonna be in Raleigh in a few hours. Can I call you?”

He can feel Jason nodding on the other end. “Yeah, sure.”

“You’ll be up?”

“Of course.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

 

*******

 

When he gets to the hotel, the weight of the game and the flight both wearing deep into his bones, Logan wants nothing more than to sleep. Maybe take a hot shower first. But then sleep.

Instead, he keeps his promise. He changes into a pair of basketball shorts and a teeshirt, rolls back the perfectly folded covers on the hotel bed, and he thumbs over his phone screen until he’s calling Jason.

Jason answers on the second ring and Logan stops himself from reading into it.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

It’s quiet for a second and Logan rolls his tongue around in his mouth, tries to keep it from drying out.

Jason breaks first. “Long night, huh?”

Logan laughs. “Yeah, I’d call it that. At least the flight was short.”

“And you got a win.” A pause. “That helps.”

Logan breathes out through his teeth. “Don’t beat yourself up about tonight.”

“I fucked up, Logan.” It’s like Jason doesn’t have the energy to be overtly angry, his voice is just small and sad and it’s frightening to hear him like this. “I let them down-”

“It’s one game,” Logan cuts him off.

“I’ve taken more penalty minutes than anyone since the break. Lindy told me.”

Logan stills. “Shit, dude.”

He can hear Jason breathing on the other end of the line, measured and heavy. “I’m not you,” he says. “I don’t get to play badly for one game.”

“They love you in Dallas.”

“They loved me in San Jose, too.”

 _That’s not fair_ , Logan wants to say. “They still do,” is what he settles on, which is probably saying too much, but. It’s late.

The conversation lapses into silence.

Dallas wouldn’t trade Jason. Their defense needs work, sure, but Jason isn’t the problem. Even though it was mutually beneficial, it was still fairly unanimous that Dallas won in the Dillon-Demers trade.

So he’s struggling a bit after the ASG Break. That doesn’t change him being one of their most active defensemen. And if his problems started after Cabo, then, maybe they have nothing to do with hockey, anyway.

Which means. _Shit_.

“Can we talk about something else?” Jason pipes up. “It’s just...I’m tired.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Logan is grateful for the subject change, but it becomes clear quickly that neither of them know where to take the conversation. Jason asks about Logan’s dogs and Logan asks about Jason’s brother and it all feels a little bit like he’s doing a media scrum.

“Can I ask you something?” he finally says.

“Yeah. Yeah, sure.”

“Look, I know I already asked this, but.” He pauses, hoping maybe Jason will take over, give him an out from having to ask this, but he doesn’t and Logan carries on. “Why did you call me earlier?”

Jason doesn’t answer.

“I know you said you don’t know why, but I feel like you know why, and you don’t want to tell me.”

Jason’s answer is firm, short. “Logan. Don’t.”

Logan presses on. “Is it the same reason you called me from Cabo?”

“Logan,” Jason says, practically begging.

He stops then, lets Jason collect his words. He stretches his legs across the mattress, working blood flow back through them, refusing to say anything else until Jason answers him or hangs up - which would serve for an answer, too.

“I miss you,” Jason sighs. “Don’t make me spell it out. Please.”

“Cabo?”

“I missed you, okay? I missed you ever since the last time we played you - I mean, for as long as I’ve been traded, but ever since that game, it’s like...I can’t stop thinking about you, I wish I would’ve kissed you in that bar, I wish I would’ve kissed you five years sooner, I wish...”

After the last time they played each other, when San Jose won in overtime, Jason and Logan hit up an old favorite bar, took to the town for the night. For a couple of hours, it was like Jason had never left. Under the dim lights, Jason hung off Logan’s shoulder and there was a moment - Logan thought he’d imagined it, somewhere between his third shot and fourth drink - where Jason mumbled something against his jaw, touched their cheeks together, and Logan thought for a second that maybe, maybe something would happen. Jason would kiss him, the way he did before there were a thousand miles between them.

Jason didn’t and Logan’s hangover the next morning convinced him that he made the whole thing up, out of want, out of loneliness, out of a desperate ache that Jason left in his life.

“Jay,” he says.

“I miss you,” Jason repeats.

Logan is half hard at that. “Jay. Please.”

“Do you miss me? I mean, is that why you called me back?”

“I miss you. God, Jay, of course I miss you.” He licks his lips, feels his mouth drying again. “I didn’t know you were gonna kiss me. That night. Fuck, Jay. I would’ve let you kiss me.”

“Yeah?” Jason asks, voice suddenly breathy. “Would you have taken me home, too?”

Instinctively, Logan palms over his shorts, moans without thinking about what he’s doing. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I would’ve.”

“Logan. Are you touching yourself?”

He hums into the phone.

“Fuck. Fuck that’s hot.” Jason’s voice lowers an octave and Logan shoves his hand into his shorts. “Me too.”

Logan works himself to sounds of Jason’s breathing, to the small moans he lets slip. He slides his shorts down, just over his thighs, just enough that he has room to move and can get his hand back on himself quickly.

“Talk to me,” he asks Jason. He adds, “Please.”

“Do you remember what my mouth feels like?” Jason asks.

Logan whines into the phone, squeezes at the base of his dick thinking about Jason’s mouth, warm and wet against him.

“I think about yours a lot. Especially since you keep messing it up.”

“You’re one to talk.” Logan smiles. “I wouldn’t have let you near me with that snaggletooth.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever refused my mouth on your cock before.”

Logan’s dick twitches in his hand. “You are pretty good at that,” he concedes.

“Do you remember how you felt inside of me?” Jason asks and Logan lets out a low hiss. “Remember the last time we fucked, how slowly I rode you?”

“Mhm.”

“What did I keep telling you?”

Fuck. “Not yet,” Logan answers, still working over himself.

“That’s right. Not yet.”

It sounds like Jason is shifting on the other end and Logan takes a second to spit into his palm, moaning when his hand slicks over his length.

“Do you feel good?” Jason asks.

“Mhm.”

“Have you missed me?”

It’s a loaded question mid phone sex and the closer Logan gets to climax, the more his brain starts to feel like mush. But the answer is pervasive, it’s in every part of him, from him calling Jason back, to getting an erection from an “I miss you.” He’s a half minute away from coming and he wants nothing more than for Jason to be there.

“Yes,” he says. “God, Jay, fuck, yes.”

Jason comes first, a low, drawn out groan followed by a mumbled “ _Merde_ ” and hearing Jason revert to French tips Logan over the edge. He comes quietly, whimpers into the phone while Jason coos on the other end. For a while, they don’t say any real words, just small noises of comfort and reassurance until their breathing evens out.

“Logan,” Jason says, pulling him back up.

“Hm?”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

“I didn’t call for phone sex, by the way.”

Logan laughs and can feel Jason’s smile, has the exact layout of his grin imprinted in his memory. “It was just a bonus?”

“Yeah, we’ll call it that.”

“Good.”

Another minute passes. A chill settles over the hotel room and Logan is starting to feel sticky and wrong and remembers that warm shower he’d promised himself earlier.

“I’ve gotta go. It’s late here.”

“Shit. Yeah, dude, no worries.”

He thinks over what he wants to say next. “Jay? I’m glad you called.”

Jason sighs. “Me, too.” A pause. “Good luck tomorrow.”

“I’ll call you after?”

“I’ll be here.”

**Author's Note:**

> yell at me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/peggingcrosby) // [tumblr](http://bennboysbutts.tumblr.com)


End file.
